


Christmas Cookies: Stiles Style

by heartsdesire456



Series: When Stiles Met Scott (A collection of childhood adventures and mishaps) [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Baking, Best Friends, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Cute Kids, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott and Stiles decide to make Christmas cookies for Scott's mom... without any help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Cookies: Stiles Style

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW ITS ANOTHER ONE BUT DON'T JUDGE ME IT'S TOO CUTE!
> 
> (And I'm late but I was out all day and then spent 3 hours finally cleaning out my closets)

Scott looked at the counter with things set out on it and then up at Stiles, who was standing on the stove to get things out from the cabinet above it. “Stiles… are you sure you know what you’re doing?” he asked unsurely. 

Stiles gave him a look. “Scotty, c’mon. You know you can trust me!” he said, dropping him another container of spices. “When have I ever steered you wrong?”

Scott pouted. “Last year you made me get my mom stuck in a Santa trap,” he pointed out and Stiles huffed.

“Yeah, well, if they hadn’t lied to us about Santa that wouldn’t be a problem, would it?” he asked and Scott shrugged. He could definitely see where Stiles was coming from. 

Scott caught something and frowned. “What do we need green flakes for? Isn’t this for spaghetti?”

Stiles shot him a look. “Scott, spaghetti’s delicious, right?” Scott nodded. “Then it should be good in Christmas cookies!”

Scott put all the things Stiles handed him on the counter and then held out his arms for Stiles to jump down… and land on him, knocking them both on the floor. “Ow, your elbow stabbed my tummy,” Scott complained, shoving Stiles off and pouting. Stiles reached down and patted his tummy before dragging him up.

“Alright, Scotty! Let’s get to mixing!” Stiles cheered, clambering up onto the chair he’d dragged over. Scott climbed up onto the counter, with Stiles’s help, and sat beside the bowl they were mixing in. “First step is the flour,” Stiles said as if he was doing a cooking show. He grabbed a measuring cup and the flour and looked between the two. “Right. Just… about…” He dumped the bag and in a flash a bunch of flour fell into the cup and a whole lot fell out around it, poofing into a cloud of flour that enveloped them. Scott coughed, waving his hand, but Stiles looked up with a bright smile. “Hey, you can’t make Christmas cookies without looking like a chef, and chefs have stuff on them!” He dumped the cup in the bowl and nodded. “Eggs!” Scott grabbed the eggs and handed to Stiles. Stiles looked at the carton and counted and then hummed before picking up one egg and throwing it in the bowl. “That’s gotta be enough,” he said, smashing the egg with the bottom of the measuring cup until all the shell was crunched up really small. 

“I thought cookies didn’t have shells,” Scott pointed out and Stiles gave him a look. 

“Scott. Buddy. It’s called _crunchy_ Christmas cookies, duh!” he said, shaking his head with pursed lips. “You gotta learn this stuff if you’re gonna make it in the fourth grade, Scott.”

“But we ARE in the fourth grade!” Scott argued, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Yeah but you gotta _make it_ ,” Stiles stressed. He grabbed a big wooden spoon and started stirring. “Alright Scotty! Sugar!”

Scott grabbed two boxes. “One is brown and crumbly and one is white and powdery.”

Stiles hummed. “Lemme taste them,” he decided and Scott opened the box and poked a hole in the plastic bag inside and then scooped some up on his finger. He held it out and Stiles licked his finger, humming. “That’s like a donut,” he said, and Scott got the other box and did the same. Stiles smacked his lips and nodded. “That brown one’s nicer,” he decided, taking the box. He looked at it and then at the bowl and upended the whole thing.

“Stiles! That’s all the brown sugar!” Scott cried, snatching the empty box and shaking it only to frown at the last granules falling out. “Mom’s gonna be mad.”

“No she won’t,” Stiles argued. “We’re making her cookies!” He grabbed a chocolate bar – they didn’t have chocolate chips – and started breaking off hunks to lob into the mix. “I need a bottle of water, three capfuls of that oil stuff, and about…” he narrowed his eyes at the mixture. “Three shakes of the green flake stuff and like a crapload full of the cinnamon sugar.”

Scott did what Stiles asked and then sat and watched while Stiles stirred the stuff up. “Maybe we should put some fruit it in? So it’s healthy?” he asked and Stiles glanced up, eyes wide.

“Yes! Get some grapes!” he cried, pointing at the refrigerator. Scott clambered off the counter and ran to get grapes. When he got back, he started picking grapes off the vine to toss into the mix, letting Stiles smush them and stir them in. 

After a while, Stiles put the spoon aside and nodded. “This works. Now. Get the pan and give it to me,” he said, pointing to the shelf above the stove again. Scott got the pan down – only falling off once – and put it on the counter. Stiles scooped out giant handfuls of the cookie batter and plopped them in weird spots. “It’s abstract,” Stiles explained and Scott frowned.

“What’s abstract?” Scott asked with a frown and Stiles paused.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure, but my babysitter said that last time I splattered Jell-O on the floor when I dropped it,” he offered and Scott nodded.

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

When Stiles finished, Scott put the pan in the oven – wearing two pairs of oven mitts to be safe – and then Stiles turned it on. “I’ll go with… four hundred should work,” he said, and Scott nodded. “And… I dunno, an hour?”

Scott nodded again. “That sounds reasonable. Just don’t forget, okay?”

“Scotty,” Stiles scoffed, giving him a flat look. “C’mon, when do I ever forget ANYTHING?” he asked and Scott gave him a doubtful glare. Stiles slung an arm around his shoulders. “Come on, let’s put all this stuff in the sink so your mom doesn’t have much to clean up when she gets done on the phone upstairs,” he suggested, guiding Scott over to get all the stuff and throw it in the sink. When they finished, Stiles grabbed Scott’s wrist.

“Where’re we going?” Scott asked, and Stiles beamed.

“We gotta go run around so when the cookies finish, we have enough energy to eat them!” he cried excitedly, and Scott beamed.

“Oh yeah!” he said, linking hands with Stiles as they ran out the back door.

~

John was just finishing his shift, on his way back to the station, when he got a call.

“Dispatch to RH 4, we have a house fire on Brigham Lane. Fire and paramedics are on their way now. Repeat, house fire on Brigham Lane.”

John cursed, fumbling for his radio. “RH 4 responding,” he replied, then flipped on his lights and sirens, flooring it. 

Somehow he just _knew_ that it was Melissa’s house.

~

(“And that’s why me and my mom lived at the Holiday Inn for three weeks – including Christmas - when I was nine!” Scott explained with a serious nod. “Stiles set my kitchen on fire.”

“Hey, you HELPED!”)


End file.
